


A Thousand Cuts of Paper

by WerewolvesAreReal



Category: Natsume Yuujinchou | Natsume's Book of Friends
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-11-05 17:58:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11018607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WerewolvesAreReal/pseuds/WerewolvesAreReal
Summary: The Natori clan is infamous for their magic crafts of paper, their ink spells and sigils, their crafts which bond and control and dominate.Incidentally, eighteen-year-old Natori Shuuichi is really awful at origami.





	A Thousand Cuts of Paper

There are many magical uses for origami unknown even to other exorcists. A cleverly crafted animal can bind the souls of a corresponding beast youkai - absorbing a cat into a cat, pushing a wolf-haunting into a delicately white counterpart with frayed ears of bent paper. Paper boxes are poor bindings, but they can easily be used to carry away malignant energy, and with the right application of a few magic characters they can even bind spirits for a few days. Arrows can be commanded to pierce impermeable flesh. Twists of bent paper rope can curl around youkai to tie their arms.

These are the Natori clan secrets, cultivated with care and passed from generation to generation.

“This,” an eighteen-year-old Shuuichi tells Sasago, “is the most pathetic frog I have ever seen.”

His new  _shiki_ tilts her head, lips tilting. He gets the distinct impression she is laughing at him.

He tosses it down in disgust. The intended frog looks mostly like a lump of crumpled green paper. Anyone can make a frog. Hundreds of people in Japan carry around frogs in their wallets for luck. Shuuichi is an exorcist of the Natori clan – an aspiring exorcist, anyway - and he can't even manage that?

He flexes his stinging hands. No one told him that the Natori clan's special magic would only be learned at the cost of thousands of paper-cuts. He wonders if blood is good or bad for spells. He should probably figure that out.

Absently, Shuuichi grabs a longer roll of paper and folds it once, twice, three times – again and again until it seems right, and then he neatly cuts out a humanoid form. When he drops the paper background a connected string of white dolls spill onto the floor, a long line of _shikigami._

“Does it make you feel better,” Sasago asks, “To complete a task which comes to you so easily, instead of challenging yourself?”

He's never seen the Matobas get sassed by their servants like this.

The strings of paper can be hung up as wards; his room is so criss-crossed with them that Sasago sometimes looks mildly uncomfortable. He can also make a single doll, of course, useful for tracking youkai and sending messages. But that only scratches the surface of his clan's abilities – the skills the Natori scrolls mention in vague terms, and which his father refuses to discuss at all.

As if the thought has summoned him, someone bangs sharply on the door. “Get downstairs, Shuuichi,” his father barks. Sasago glares and folds her arms, but he stands up and goes.

His father is slumped into a chair, his tired hands cradling a glass when Shuuichi arrives in the dining room. “Sumi-san works hard on these meals,” the man snaps when he sees Shuuichi. “You need to stop shutting yourself away with those... what is that?”

Natori realizes he is holding the folded-up chain of dolls. His hand opens and the line cascades over the ground.

“Is that what you've been playing with all the time? Are you going to tie up spirits with _that?”_ His father rarely even uses that word, 'spirits'; he prefers not to reference what Shuuichi is studying, to scold his trips to the storehouse but otherwise leave his gift an open and resented secret.

“No,” Shuuichi says, but frowns thoughtfully. With a flick of his hand the paper folds itself up again, and his father flinches.

His grandfather limps in a minute later. They eat in tense silence.

* * *

 

“Sasago, can you tell me about youkai magic?”

The spirit turns her head. “No.”

Shuuichi sputters. “Why not?”

“Because I do not know anything about magic. I have never studied it.”

“But - “ he frowns. Alright. In retrospect, that's a bit like asking a random person anatomy questions; people can inhabit bodies without understanding them. “Is it different than the magic exorcists use?”

“Yes,” she says, and falls silent.

Shuuichi leans back, exasperated. Evidently she doesn't want to discuss the subject, but - “Can you tell me,” he tries, “if the magic humans use is – bound to ritual, precedent? If I draw a circle of protection from one of these books, can I _change_ it?”

Sasago stares at him a long moment. “Someone invented these spells, at one point,” she points out.

Which he takes to mean _yes._

Shuuichi crumples up his last (failed) attempt at making an origami box. “Right,” he decides. If the Natori clan is known for its paper magic, then that's what he'll use. But that doesn't mean he can't add his own twist to things.

* * *

 

“What are you doing,” says Sasago finally.

Natori flings one of his many paper-chains toward the tree; the _shikigami_ flutter uselessly to the ground and stay there. He flicks his wrist to call them back. “Practicing.”

He beams; in his experience a bright smile and confidence can often dissuade people from prying.

It's hit-and-miss on youkai, though. “Practicing _what.”_

“...Exorcising spirits?”

Sasago pauses. Looks at him. Looks at the utterly normal tree.

“It could help,” he mutters.

Sasago sighs quietly. “There's a small group of imps in the forest outside the property. They've even been annoying other youkai. I could easily get rid of them, so it would be safe for you to practice there.”

“Sasago! Are you implying that I need you to guard me?”

“That is my _duty,_ Master.”

“Ah! Of course.” He beams again.

Sasago is unimpressed.

They sneak outside when the rest of the household is sleeping; if Shuuichi's father and grandfather are skeptical of him simply studying youkai, he imagines the thought of his confronting them would be worse. Armed with half a dozen ofuda, several sheaths of paper, an ink-brush, and of course his paper chains, his jacket bulges and pulls awkwardly when he creeps through the undergrowth.

He definitely needs a better coat. One more thing for his list.

Shuuichi almost stumbles over the first spirit. It cackles at him, brandishing oversized fangs the size of his hand, and darts quickly around his feet.

“What a clumsy human,” it mocks, and then blanches when Shuuichi meets its gaze. He pulls out a chain of paper and throws it.

The paper flutters to the ground.

The imp laughs again, delighted, and leaps forward to bite his leg. Shuuichi yelps and kicks it away. It would probably be easier just to smack the tiny youkai with his hands, but that's not the point.

This specific design is supposed to be protective – it usually acts as a barrier to keep youkai _out._ Anyone can use paper-chains that way, although they're rare. Shuuichi wants to bind, to keep a youkai's power constrained inward. But that's no different, he thinks; he just needs to make the barrier surround a youkai, restricting it essentially from the entire world.

He lifts his hand again.

He uses the paper like a shield first, and it darts snake-like to block the imp when it tries to bite him. Several twists of his wrist has the paper whirling in a circle, sustained by nothing but his will, with the imp caught inside. He tugs, and the circle tightens, tightens.

Sasago stands by his side and peers curiously at the result: a squeaking, indignant youkai writhing against bonds physically fragile but unbreakable nevertheless.

“That took you awhile,” she notes.

Everyone's a critic.

* * *

  
“Did you finally give up on that origami obsession?” His dad grunts over breakfast.

“Oh, yes.” Natori cheerfully doodles a few sigils on his napkin. Maybe he can make his own circle to _attract_ youkai toward a space before catching them, which would be ideal for bindings... “I don't think I'm going to bother with that anymore,” he says.

 


End file.
